


we who wander this wasteland

by fade131



Category: B.A.P
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fury Road, M/M, i dont know what to tag this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 06:38:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4425221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fade131/pseuds/fade131
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Tell us again,” Daehyun asks, his voice hushed, hedged in by the heavy walls of the vault. “Tell us about the Green Place.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	we who wander this wasteland

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a fill for this week's [B.A.P Bingo Challenge](http://bapbingochallenge.tumblr.com/) prompt, Road Trip.
> 
> This is a really loose interpretation of the prompt hahahaha I'm so rry... orz

“Tell us again,” Daehyun asks, his voice hushed, hedged in by the heavy walls of the vault. “Tell us about the Green Place.”

Himchan meets his impassive gaze, sighs, and sinks down to sit on the floor with them, letting the weight of his prosthetic rest across his thigh. Daehyun is the oldest, the favorite – Himchan remembers when they brought him here, sun-kissed and lean and so angry. He remembers each of them, dragged back by the War Boys, ripped from other families, other lives, just like him.

When he closes his eyes he can still see the Green Place, stretching out beyond the Badlands, before the salt flats. Green and warm in the sun, with cool clean water and shady trees, and everything is so much brighter in his memories he wonders if he’s remembering it right at all. The Green Place unfolds out of his words and fills up the close quiet of the vault, until he could almost imagine there were no thick steel walls hemming them in, no locked and bolted doors, no jagged rock walls.

Daehyun’s eyes are closed when he stops speaking, his fingers moving slowly through Youngjae’s long hair where his head rests against Daehyun’s thigh. Youngjae and Jongup are watching him, all rapt attention, Youngjae’s face speaking of bleak resignation and Jongup’s of hopeless longing. When Daehyun’s eyes flutter open the look he gives Himchan speaks volumes, but he says nothing.

In the morning, Himchan is reassigned.

The War Rig gleams in the sunlight, a hulking guzzolene-black behemoth, and Himchan learns every inch of it, every nut and bolt, every quirk in the mechanics, every trick to keeping it running smoothly. As Imperator he already held as much power in the Immortan’s gang as he could hope to, but on supply runs to Gas Town his words are law for the War Boys. The Fury Road stretches out beneath his wheels, the last road from here to anywhere, nothing but waste and ruin on either side – but somewhere past it, far and away he knows, the Green Place is waiting.

Long rides home to the Citadel, he remembers quiet nights in the vault, watching Daehyun and Youngjae curl up together, remembers telling Jongup stories until they all fall asleep. He wonders who guards their dreaming now, if they share stories still, if Daehyun still sings Youngjae to sleep on nights when the screaming gets loud enough to hear inside the vault. He wonders.

But weeks turn into months and his wondering isn’t worth a drop of mother’s milk, wishes and daydreams are worth less than sand in the Badlands. He tells himself it doesn’t matter, at least they’re alive, but he can’t make himself believe it.

He doesn’t know what makes him go and visit them. Just a feeling, a weight in the pit of his stomach, tingling on the back of his neck, the last trip out had been hard and the Buzzards had taken his War Boys on the way home, and the ghost of his arm is a lead weight, pin pricks of fire at vanished fingertips. He’s not allowed in the vault anymore, he shouldn’t be here, but the Imperator watching them now turns away like it doesn’t matter, and Himchan has to worry they aren’t safe when it counts.

It used to be that Jongup still smiled, but he’s lost that now, although Himchan thinks he sees the shadow of it in his eyes. Youngjae starts when he comes in, half asleep nestled at Daehyun’s side, Daehyun who looks at Himchan like he’s been expecting him, waiting for him.

They act as if he never left them, and he sits on the floor with Jongup and tells them about the Fury Road, about the long drive to Gas Town, about everything he can think of until his words run out. Jongup’s asleep, curled up in a little ball, but Youngjae’s mouth is set in a tight line, and Daehyun’s eyes burn.

“Do you think it’s still there?” he asks, and Himchan knows he means the Green Place.

Youngjae frowns a little, drawing his knees up under him, the springs in the mattress creaking. “Where would it have gone?”

“It could be – corrupted, like everything else.”

Himchan sits up a little straighter. “No. No, it must still be there.”

“Take us,” Daehyun says. His voice is soft, quiet so it won’t carry, but it’s a demand, an order, not a request. Himchan stares at him, his missing fingers tingling, and thinks about the logistics of it – making sure they get to the War Rig at the right time, striking out into Buzzard territory, getting through the canyon, evading anything the Immortan sends after them. He thinks about supplies, bribes, the War Boys that will be on the rig when they leave, thinks about how long it will take to set everything up.

The road stretches out in his mind’s eye, treacherous and full of pitfalls, danger on either side and death on their heels, and the Green Place off in the distance, just out of reach, but maybe, maybe.

Himchan has always been good at following orders.

The sun is hot and bright, flashing off chrome, and Himchan grips the heated leather of the steering wheel tight with his good hand. When the signal goes to move out he doesn’t think of them, huddled in the tiny space beneath the cabin, or how they looked when he helped them slip out of the vault – Jongup watching blank faced and obedient, Youngjae’s eyes sparkling with something like hope, Daehyun’s hands white with chalk from the messages scrawled on the walls. When the rig’s engine roars to life he’s not thinking of Youngjae’s soft hand in his, following along, taking the guns he’s handed; he’s not thinking of the way Daehyun looked at him before he shut the trap door, eyes hard and bright, _you’re going to get us out of here._ As the rig rolls out, his thoughts are far and ahead, away along the Fury Road, already taking the turn out into the Badlands, already racing through the canyon, the Green Place like a beacon in the distance. 

It’s a lovely day for a drive.


End file.
